THE PATRON'S WIFE.
The following morning, Netta was not well, and did not appear at the breakfast-table. Howel said she had a bad headache, and did not intend going to church.
Breakfast was hurried over to prepare for a six miles' drive to church, and the carriage conveyed the two ladies and three of the gentlemen thither, resplendent with fashion and emblazoned prayer-books. Mr Deep did not go, and Owen determined to remain at home, in order to secure the desired conversation with Netta.
Mr Deep, however, seized upon him first of all.
It had not escaped that keen observer, that Howel had hinted the previous evening that Owen possessed property in reversion; which, indeed, he did, inasmuch as his father was a small landed proprietor, and had several farms of his own, descended to him from his father, and entailed upon Owen.
Mr Deep was reading some racing calendar, and called Owen's attention to his brother-in-law's name in connection with the names of men of note on the turf. Also to his horse, Campaigner as being one of those entered for the Ascot races.
Then he went very cautiously to work to see whether he could not induce Owen to bet; but he, holding up again his nearly empty purse, laughed his merry laugh, and said,—-
'I am not to be caught, Mr Deep. I hate horse-racing, and never laid a wager of any kind in my life. That is the only redeeming point in my character. Wild enough I have been, and roving all my life, but I never gambled. Excuse me now, as I must go and see my sister.'
He went accordingly to Netta's room, and after knocking at the door, and hearing that she was still in bed, entered unceremoniously. He was at once struck with the difference between the Netta of the farm, in her little muslin night-cap, that he had often fairly pulled off, to get her to promise to leave the pretty white-curtained bed, and the lady of Abertewey, in lace and fine linen, reclining beneath satin drapery, in a room furnished most luxuriously.
'Well, Netta, I have you alone at last; and now, if your head is not very bad, we will have a regular old-fashioned gossip,' said Owen, stooping to kiss the pretty flushed face of the little sister he dearly loved, despite her follies.
'Did you stop at home for me, Owen? How very kind! I don't think any one else would,' said Netta.
'Oh, yes, many others would if it were necessary; but I wanted to have you all to myself. Now I know you have been longing to ask me a hundred questions, but have never got beyond "How are they all at home?" yet.'
Netta blushed, and stammered out, as an apology, that she had never been at leisure one minute all the week.
By degrees she began to talk of home and her parents, and Owen was glad to find that as she did so she returned to her old, natural self. He told her everything that had happened at Glanyravon since she left it, save and except what related to Gladys. He never even mentioned her name.
Netta had various ebullitions of temper during their conversation and declared herself greatly aggrieved by her father's conduct.
'But it is just as well,' she said, 'for our positions are so different that we should never have got on comfortably. Howel is determined never to make up with father.'
'I am afraid he is not likely to have the option,' said Owen, gravely. 'But you should write and beg his pardon, Netta; you know you acted directly contrary to his wishes.'
'I think I would write, Owen, but Howel won't hear of it; he gets furious if I even name Glanyravon, and can't bear any of 'em except you.'
'Netta, I think you must use your influence to keep Howel from so much horse-racing and betting and card-playing.'
'He don't care for what I say, and goes in a passion when I advise him.'
'But surely you needn't play yourself as you do, and so late! Only think what my mother—'
'Nonsense, Owen. That would be very fine for Rowland; but you needn't take to lecturing. You never were a pattern brother or son either.'
Owen felt his sister's words more keenly than she intended.
'You are right, Netta, but I hope to mend. I must go away to-morrow in order that I may begin. I mean to make some money this next voyage, and come home, and set up as a steady fellow and good son.'
'And marry Madame Duvet? Do you know she is regularly in love with you? and they say she has a large fortune in France.'
'There it may remain for me. But I wish you wouldn't play cards Sundays.'
'They all do it in Paris, Owen, and what's the harm? Besides, it was only Saturday night; and we never do play Sundays, as you will see to-day. By-the-bye, what's gone with that Methodistical, lack-a-daisical Gladys? Is mother as mad about her as ever?'
'She saved your mother's life when there was no one else to nurse her, and is an angel, if ever there was one!'
Netta opened her large black eyes very wide, and burst out laughing.
'Ma foi! is that the last? Well, indeed! I never should have suspected her of making an impression. But she's deep enough for anything. How would father like that? Irish beggar against Abertewey! Come, Howel's better than that any day.
'Handsome is that handsome does,' said Owen, getting very red. 'And Gladys has done well ever since she's been at Glanyravon by every one belonging to us, not excepting yourself.'
'Very much obliged to her, I am sure,' said Netta, suddenly sitting up in bed, and forgetting her headache. 'She needn't trouble herself about me. I fancy we are never likely to cross one another again, unless she chances to come a-begging to Abertewey, and then perhaps—'
'And then perhaps you would give her a penny and send her on to starve. Oh! Netta, Netta, how were you ever my mother's daughter? But once for all, Netta, I will never hear one word spoken against Gladys. I at least am thankful that I still have a mother, and I owe it to her.'
'Dear me! you needn't be in such a huff directly, Owen. How was I to suppose you were in love with an Irish—I beg your pardon, with Miss Gladys O'Grady, County Kilkenny, Ireland? A very pretty name, to be sure! But if you don't go away I shall never be dressed by the time they come from church. There, go like a good boy. I 'ont offend you any more.'
'I will go as soon as you have told me what you and Howel did in Paris. I seem to know nothing of your proceedings for ages past.'
'It was dreadfully dull there at first, and I thought I should have died of it. I quite longed to be at home again. Howel was a great deal out, and I was alone; but then he gave me a singing master, and a French and dancing mistress, and made me work as hard as if I was at school again. In about a month Captain Dancy and Mr Simpson came over, and it was much more pleasant. We used to go to the opera and the play nearly every night, and Captain Dancy introduced me to Madame Duvet, and she introduced me to a great many other ladies, English and French, and we had a good deal of fun. I went to balls and parties, and picture galleries, and the Champs Elysées, and all the fashionable places.'
'But where did Howel meet with Mr Deep?' interrupted Owen.
'Oh! he used to be with him from the first. They are very old friends, Howel says, and have known one another for years; he is a very fashionable man, an attorney by profession. Simpson says that the races couldn't go on without him.'
'I should think not,' said Owen, smiling; 'at all events, Mr Simpson's races would be at a stand still without him. Did you, did Howel play much abroad?'
'Yes, I learned from Madame Duvet? and I think Howel and Mr Deep and the other gentlemen used to play all day. You know they have nothing else to do in Paris. It would be very dull there without cards.'
'Poor Netta! is that what you learned with your little bit of French?'
'I assure you, Owen, Monsieur Letellier and a dozen other Frenchmen said I had a beautiful accent, and that they would have thought I was born in Paris.'
Owen laughed heartily, and Netta was offended, and told him to go away. Just as he was in the act of obeying, Howel appeared.
'What! not up, Netta? How's the head? Owen, there's a letter for you. Llanfach post-mark, and from a lady? such a neat, pretty, ladylike hand! How sly you are to have lady correspondents, and not let us know who the charmer is!'
'Let me see the direction,' said Netta, trying to get the letter from her brother.
'No, no,' said Owen. 'I must keep my secret for the present when it is all settled you shall know.'
'It makes you blush, however,' laughed Howel.
'Is it Mary Jones, or Anne Jenkins, or Amelia Lewis, or Miss Richards, doctor, or Jemima Thomas—or—or—perhaps it is Gladys. Ha, ha! do you know, Howel, Owen's last is mother's Irish girl, Gladys?'
'Really?' sneered Howel. 'My mother tells me that she ran away from Glanyravon, and report says with somebody we know of. But report was false as usual; and she turns up again as Miss Gwynne's lady's maid. Miss Gwynne is about as eccentric as the rest of the clique, and I wish her joy of her bargain. The girl is a beauty, certainly, but—'
'Hush, Howel!' cried Netta; 'Owen was nearly boxing my ears about her just now.'
'Not exactly, Netta,' said Owen, smothering rising anger, and looking very red; 'but I won't hear a word said against her either by man or woman. I am going to read my letter now, and you are going to get up, so I won't stop here any longer,' and Owen left the room.
He went at once to his own bedroom, where he hastily broke open the letter Howel had given him, and read as follows:—
'GLANYRAVON PARK, May——.
'SIR,—- I hope you will excuse my boldness in writing to you; but having heard that you are at Abertewey, I take the liberty of doing so, to tell you that your leaving home has made us all very unhappy. Oh! Mr Owen, if you would only go back and see your dear mother and honoured father, and learn how lonely they are without you, I think you would give up the sea, or at least remain with them for some time. If you would write to the master, or say a few gentle words to him, he would overlook your going to see your sister, I am almost sure; and, indeed, it breaks my heart to know that I was the cause of your going away so suddenly, after you had been so long at home, and so good to your parents.
'Then, dear Mr Owen, you, who have been always so kind to me, a poor orphan wanderer, and beggar at your father's gate, do, I pray you, add this one favour more to the many you have done me, and return to your parents, to take leave of them at least before you go away. Hoping you will forgive my writing to you on this subject, believe me to remain, Mr Owen, your obedient and grateful servant, GLADYS O'GRADY.'
When Owen had read this letter twice, he devoutly kissed it, and exclaimed,—
'This favour, Gladys! ay, and a thousand more, if you will only write to me, and let one little "dear" slip in unawares every time you ask one. I suppose I had better write to father to-day, and follow my letter to-morrow.'
Owen sat down at once, and wrote the following brief epistle:—
'MY DEAR FATHER,—If I have offended you in any way, I am very sorry. I didn't mean to do so, and shall return to-morrow to ask pardon in person; but, remember, I am just as much in love with Gladys as ever, and don't mean to curry favour about her. With best love to mother, I am, your affectionate son, OWEN.'
That day at luncheon Owen announced his intention of leaving Abertewey the following morning.
'To see the fair lady who wrote that neat note?' said Howel.
'Probably so,' replied Owen.
'Where are you going? We shall miss you dreadfully,' said Madame Duvet, with an entreating glance.
'I fear we must all leave on Tuesday or Wednesday,' said Miss Simpson: 'at least if you still intend going to London with us, Madame Duvet. I have had a letter from home, positively refusing any further extension of leave, and my brother promises to return with me.'
'We may as well all go together, then,' said Captain Dancy, 'as I must be in town this week; and Deep goes up on Tuesday. When are you coming, Jenkins?'
'Only in time for Ascot. I cannot leave home until to-morrow week, and shall probably only remain the race week. Mrs Jenkins is not going up, and I shall not like to leave her long alone. Owen, you must come over and see her when I am away.'
'I think you had better stay at home, Howel. You will run less risk in taking care of Netta than you will at Ascot.'
'Thanks for your advice, but I know my own business best.'
'I beg your pardon, Howel, I meant no offence. But although I am going home, I don't know how long I may stay there. Perhaps shall be off to sea in a few days.'
'I will use your own words,' said Madame Duvet, 'and say better stay at home, and take care of—let me see—yourself, I suppose. You will run less risk than at sea.'
Owen laughed, and said he would not reply in Howel's words, as he was not sure that he knew his own business best. But he did not add that he should like to take care of Madame Duvet as she wished him to do.
Neither did that afternoon and evening at Abertewey improve Owen's opinion of its inmates. French novels and betting-books were their sermons, and he longed to take his poor little sister Netta away from the contamination of such society. But she came downstairs after luncheon was over, gay and bright in dress and person, and ready for any amount of frivolity. Her countenance clouded over, when she heard how soon the party was to be broken up; but when Howel assured her he should be only a week absent, and that he would take her to town in June, it cleared again.
Owen took his leave of Abertewey the following morning. Netta whispered 'Give my love to mother,' and had a very large tear in her black eye, as he walked away, the remembrance of which often haunted him in after days. Howel told him to come again whenever he liked, and accompanied him as far as the lodge on his homeward journey.
When he reached Glanyravon, he found his mother prepared to receive him with joyful love. His father came in soon after his return, and greeted him as he expected, with a very wrathful lecture, which he bore patiently, and to which he replied as follows:—
'Thank you, father; I am much obliged to you for all your abuse, but I don't think I deserve it. As I am of age, and a few years past that period, you must let me have a will of my own.'
'I think you have always had one,' roared the farmer.
'Yes, but not at home, father. I was obliged to run away to get it. But now I mean to stay at home if you will let me. Gladys is gone away, so I don't stay on her account.'
'I'm not seure of that. You never stayed on ours.'
'Well, I will now. But I can't promise to give up Netta. I've had enough of Abertewey, and don't mean to go there any more as far as I can see at present, and that's all I can say about that matter. As for Gladys, I suppose I must get her consent and yours to marry her, and when I've got them you won't object, I suppose?'
'I think you'd best go off to sea again. I don't want any agreements made here.'
'I am not going to make any agreements, but as I am your eldest son, and the only one able and willing to stay at home and help you and mother, I do not see why you should wish to send me off to sea again, now that I really would be of use to you. I know that I have not been what I ought to have been to you hitherto, and my desire is to make up for the past as well as I can. So, father, you had better take me whilst I am in the humour, and see what you can make of me. Hit the nail while it is hot, and don't discourage me at first starting, or I shall never get on. You know I'm very shy, and want some one to lend me a helping hand. If you're not too hard upon me you may make something useful of me yet.'
Owen put his hand on his father's shoulder, as he wound up his speech, in a coaxing, boyish way, that had always proved irresistible. The honest farmer pished and pshawed, and tried to get into a fresh passion, but meeting Owen's saucy eyes, fairly broke down.
'I tell you what it is, Owen, you're a regular scamp, and always were; but you know better than any of 'em to come over me, so—now, don't be a fool, mother! Just because the good-for-nothing young scoundrel promises to stay at home you must begin to cry. Name o' goodness hold your tongue, and don't be coaxing and kissing me, and all that nonsense. He 'out keep his promise a month, you shall see.'
'So she shall, father, and you and I will shake hands upon it, and I'll be a good boy, and never be naughty any more.'
Father and son shook hands, and mother and son embraced, and future chapters will show whether Owen kept his word.